Another day in Venezuela: Sukhois over a shantytown

"I’m glad you’re here," says Carmen. "I don’t know if you know this, but a few weeks ago, the guy who delivers the school lunches witnessed four people getting gunned down at seven in the morning — right here, just as the kids were coming to class. Now he doesn’t want to come anymore. He’s ...

LEO RAMIREZ/AFP/Getty Images
LEO RAMIREZ/AFP/Getty Images
LEO RAMIREZ/AFP/Getty Images

"I'm glad you're here," says Carmen. "I don't know if you know this, but a few weeks ago, the guy who delivers the school lunches witnessed four people getting gunned down at seven in the morning -- right here, just as the kids were coming to class. Now he doesn't want to come anymore. He's afraid he's next."

"I’m glad you’re here," says Carmen. "I don’t know if you know this, but a few weeks ago, the guy who delivers the school lunches witnessed four people getting gunned down at seven in the morning — right here, just as the kids were coming to class. Now he doesn’t want to come anymore. He’s afraid he’s next."

Welcome to Escuela Ebel Pastor Oropeza, a municipal school for special-needs children in the heart of Petare, Caracas’ biggest, meanest slum (shown in the photo above). Surprisingly, the opposition won a 2007 election that put it in charge of the local government, including this school.

Carmen, one of the heroic teachers at the school, matter-of-factly recites these grievances to the authorities accompanying me, while at the same time giving us a slice of birthday cake for another teacher. Life and death, it’s all in a day’s work here, she says.

Escuela Oropeza treats at-risk children from the entire barrio. Kids with hyper-activity, Asperger’s, ADD, and various learning disabilities find a sanctuary from the chaos of the shantytown in the school’s tidy, narrow classrooms.

I ask Yosemi, the sixth-grade teacher, if her kids are on Ritalin. She looks at me as if I was from another planet. The school doesn’t have running water. They haven’t had an onsite psychologist in months.

She does what she can to help them, but the problems are overwhelming. Physical and sexual abuse, self-esteem issues, and abandonment are par for the course. A twelve-year old recently knocked on their door to enroll on his own initiative. His junkie mom had never bothered enrolling him. He was illiterate and had heard this was a school for kids like him.

I poke my head into the fifth-grade classroom. I ask the kids to guess where I’m from. When they hear I’m from Maracaibo — Venezuela’s second-largest city — I ask them if they know what state it’s in.

None of them know. I am later told most of them are barely learning to read and write.

I ask Susana, the fourth-grade teacher, about textbooks. She says the mayor’s office gave them textbooks last year, but this year they received half that amount. The Mayor’s Education Secretary, on tour with me, makes a note, and talks about how the national government has cut the opposition municipality’s budget. He promises to do what he can.

The school teaches basic job skills such as electricity, woodwork, sewing, and cooking. I ask Suleima, the cooking teacher, about some of her success stories. She tells me, with obvious pride, about a couple of her students who recently got stable jobs. One works at a bakery, the other at Domino’s Pizza.

All over the school, you see signs about basic values: companionship; respect; responsibility; work ethic. One sign reminds kids that your job is only important if you do it well. In the kitchen, another reminds them that the table is where a person’s true culture reveals itself, and that they should treat the dinner table with respect.

Public schools are voting centers in Venezuela. When there is an election, the military takes over the school for a few days before, and a few days after.

Maydelin, another of the teachers, tells me that after the last election, they came to work to find that somebody had stolen the entire computer lab. They have yet to raise the money to replace it.

I have a hard time hearing her. Directly above us, eight Sukhoi fighter planes — recently purchased from the Russians at exorbitant cost — are practicing for a military parade.

We wonder, in silence, how much the parade is going to cost.

Juan Cristóbal Nagel is a professor of economics at the Universidadde los Andes in Santiago, Chile, editor of Caracas Chronicles, and co-author of the book Blogging the Revolution. Twitter: @juannagel

More from Foreign Policy

Children are hooked up to IV drips on the stairs at a children's hospital in Beijing.
Children are hooked up to IV drips on the stairs at a children's hospital in Beijing.

Chinese Hospitals Are Housing Another Deadly Outbreak

Authorities are covering up the spread of antibiotic-resistant pneumonia.

Henry Kissinger during an interview in Washington in August 1980.
Henry Kissinger during an interview in Washington in August 1980.

Henry Kissinger, Colossus on the World Stage

The late statesman was a master of realpolitik—whom some regarded as a war criminal.

A Ukrainian soldier in helmet and fatigues holds a cell phone and looks up at the night sky as an explosion lights up the horizon behind him.
A Ukrainian soldier in helmet and fatigues holds a cell phone and looks up at the night sky as an explosion lights up the horizon behind him.

The West’s False Choice in Ukraine

The crossroads is not between war and compromise, but between victory and defeat.

Illustrated portraits of Reps. MIke Gallagher, right, and Raja Krishnamoorthi
Illustrated portraits of Reps. MIke Gallagher, right, and Raja Krishnamoorthi

The Masterminds

Washington wants to get tough on China, and the leaders of the House China Committee are in the driver’s seat.